


イサカ37

by kirakirababy



Category: the GazettE
Genre: Angry Sex, Drama, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, Gay, Gay Sex, M/M, Mild Language, Romance, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 06:11:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4336949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirakirababy/pseuds/kirakirababy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We malfunction like machines.<br/>Slamfire from a scattergun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	イサカ37

_We malfunction like machines.  
  
Slamfire from a scattergun._  
  
“You're infuriating,” you gasp against my lips, dark makeup smeared violently across your temple like dried blood, cheeks an angry scarlet.  
“Fuck you,” I hiss, slamming my hand against the wall next to your ear and twisting my other hand into your hair, weaving my fingers around the back of your neck and kissing you hard enough to feel your teeth press into my lip sharply. We both moan when your tongue slides between my lips, tangling lewdly with mine.  
  
You smell like scotch, cigarettes and sexual frustration, and your scornful laughter rips through the air like bullets through velvet.  
  
“If you're going to fuck me, then fuck me.” You respond haughtily, smiling derisively.  
  
I groan at your words, and can't hold back the quiet whimper that falls from my lips when your hand slides to rest against the bulge in my jeans, fingers working to unfasten the button.  
I free my hand from the back of your damp neck, and you wince, swearing unprettily as my fingers come away quick enough to yank out several long, black and blond strands of your hair.  
You allow yourself to fall heavily against the wall, feverish eyes slipping closed when I take both your wrists in my hand, holding them tightly, high above your head.  
Craving your taste, I take a moment to lick along your sweat-slicked throat, curved and beautiful, pulse pounding beneath my lips. You moan lowly, somewhere deep in your throat, and the sound reverberates through my mouth, tickling my teeth.  
  
  
 _A shotgun spray of curses litters the air  
when your shin collides forcefully with the hard wood of the bedframe.  
As always, the fight is lost somewhere in the fuck._  
  
I drive deeper, faster.  
And you claw frantically at the sheets, your body arching elegantly off the bed, blushing a beautiful red.  
Clinging to your last shred of control, eyes set to kill,  
I almost laugh when your hand meets my cheek in a venomous slap.  
My fingers move briefly to the stinging flesh and I spit out, “bitch.”  
before grasping your hand and forcing it to the bed by your side. You gasp at the sharp pain of my blunt nails biting into your wrist. “Fu—uck.” You breath, and meet my eyes in challenge.  
  
Your panting gradually becomes a soundless plea,  
 _Hold my hips tighter, fuck me harder, show me you love me._  
  
Lips chewed a cherry red, you whisper my name against my chest and it floats delicately between us for an instant before being torn apart by a discordant cry.  
Quivering, trembling, your body shudders its release,  
pearlescent streams splash across our stomachs in pulsating waves.  
Slick with cum, your spent body shakes with aftershock and you choke back a sob.  
Graceful fingers tangle roughly in my hair and your lips hungrily meet mine as  
I finish inside you  
a well oiled gun.  
  
 _The smoke clears to reveal..._  
  
Golden spheres of dust dance and flicker daintily amid the stripes of light boldly criss-crossing your naked chest. Shadows from the blinds.  
I count the mouth-shaped bruises scattered across pale skin, sweet reminders stained across your neck.  
Smoke billows thickly from your lips when you murmur, hoarse voice more evidence of the night before, “I missed you.”  
Like clockwork, your customary mid-morning smoke.  
I pluck the cigarette from between your lips and smile as you tug me into a lazy kiss, exhaling softly through your nose and mouth and laughing quietly when I complain about the flavor of your cigarette.  
Running my fingers slowly across your lips then through your wild, tangled hair, I hope you can feel through abused, tour-tired fingertips how much I've missed you too.  
  
 _Spent shells and soft cotton._

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at:  
> http://sciencesaves.livejournal.com/23295.html


End file.
